Good Morning, Sunshine!
by Ryl
Summary: Sequel to Friends Do Let Friends Drunk Dial. Stephanie drops by Rangeman with The Cure.


This is a follow up to _Friends Do Let Friends Drunk Dial_. If you haven't read that, this won't make a lot of sense.

Thanks to Stayce for editing and convincing me that we needed a Morning After story. You're always right! *grin*

Originally posted November 12, 2011.

Warning: contains adult language and situations

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Janet Evanovich and I'm not using them for profit.

**Good Morning, Sunshine!**

I woke the next morning with a spring in my step and a song on my lips.

Okay, that's a lie. I woke up groggy, grumpy, and utterly confused as to why I'd set my alarm for 6:30 am. The only time I got up that early was for the Black Friday sale at Macy's, and last time I checked, it was still July. Deciding to chalk up the alarm going off to an unnatural malfunction/random act of malice, I quietly and calmly turned it off and rolled over. Read: I hurled the alarm clock across the room, punched my pillow in rage, and collapsed. Right onto the phone I'd evidently been too tired to put away the previous night.

Hold the phone.

My eyes widened, and suddenly, I didn't need a blaring alarm clock set on snooze to get me up. Holy cow! I'd talked to Drunk Ranger last night! (And Drunk Lester, but I was doing my best to forget about that.) And Drunk Ranger had lost his inner editor!

I flung myself out of bed, only to tangle my feet in the comforter and fall flat on my face. It would take more than a tangled comforter to slow me down, though. I continued my early morning sprint to the bathroom, the comforter trailing behind me. I rushed through brushing my teeth, barely even noticing when I stabbed my gums. A little pain never hurt anyone, right?

Ten minutes later, I was dressed in a Rangeman uniform and my hair was pulled back into a sloppy pony tail. I dropped a grape in Rex's cage as I sped past and promised to tell him all about my morning meeting. It was the least I could do—he'd heard the entire conversation the night before, and I knew he had to be as curious as I was about how much Ranger would remember. Or what he would admit to remembering. Or how many men would get fired when he saw the video.

God. Bless. Bobby.

In a fit of inspiration, I dashed back to the medicine cabinet and swept the row of pain relievers into my pocket book. Somehow, I had a feeling that the Advil, Aspirin, Tylenol, Excedrin, Motrin, Aleve, and Ibuprofen would be appreciated.

I coaxed my Geo to life and floored it to Rangeman, making only one stop along the way to procure The Cure. I pressed the call button for the elevator, but the numbers above the door refused to budge. After ten seconds of tapping my feet, I opted for the stairs. By the time I made it to the fifth floor, my lungs were screaming and my legs were Jell-O. But I'd made it.

Hal met me at the stairwell door, an expression of concern on his face. At least, I think it was concern. Hal-o-sauruses aren't known for a wide range of emotional expression.

"We saw you on the monitors," he said, grasping my arm as I wavered on my feet. "Are you okay? Was anyone chasing you?" He fired the questions in rapid succession, but it didn't much matter as I was too out of breath to answer them.

"I'm fine," I finally said, pulling out of his grasp and leaning against the wall. "Is Ranger..." pant "in his..." gasp "office?"

He got a funny look on his face. "Yeah," he said slowly. "But we're not supposed to disturb him." He paused, and I could almost see him processing his thoughts. "I'm pretty sure that doesn't apply to you, though."

So Ranger was in his office, not seeing anyone. Did that mean he had a massive hangover? Or did it mean that he remembered what had happened last night and he was hiding? Hmm... Both situations had potential. Clutching the magical Micky D bag containing The Cure close, I weaved through the maze of cubicles, pausing only when I spotted Lester. He was awake and seated at his computer, but instead of typing, he was resting his head one hand and making a low moaning noise.

"Hey, Les," I said, feeling some sympathy for him. At least when I had a hangover, I generally called in sick. Somehow, I didn't think Ranger would put up with that from the Merry Men.

"Not so loud," he whispered, clutching his head.

I grinned and fished the bottle of Tylenol out of my pocket book. He opened one eye and reached half-heartedly for it, but his hand-eye co-ordination was off, so he missed. And almost fell out of his chair because he'd reached too far and over balanced himself.

"Shit," he whispered.

I caught his shoulder and nudged him back into a sitting position. Well, mostly I shoved. Hung over Lester bears a distinct resemblance to a boulder.

"Thanks," he whispered pitifully.

I took pity on him and opened the bottle of Tylenol, shaking two of the pills out. He swallowed them dry, and then managed to snag the bottle from me and shake out a few more. "Just keep the bottle," I said, waving it away when he held it out in my general direction. He attempted to secure the lid, but the child proof lid proved to be too taxing for him, so I took it back and closed it for him before placing it on his desk.

After a few seconds he took another long drink, though his grimace suggested that even water didn't taste right. When he finished the bottle, he opened his eyes and I noticed that some semblance of life had returned to them. Tylenol may be a poor substitute for The Cure, but it seemed to work wonders for Lester.

"Better?" I asked, giving his cheek a pat.

His hand-eye co-ordination had definitely improved, I thought, as he planted both of his hands on my hips and held me still in front of him.

"Much," he replied, his voice no longer a whisper, but still thick. "Now why don't you tell me what you're doing here so early? Or did you just want to hear about my night?" He grinned conspiratorially and squeezed my hips. "You wouldn't believe who I scored with last night. There was this really hot chick in a black leather outfit." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Actually, she looked a lot like Bat Girl..." he added, sounding slightly confused.

I hid a smile and extricated myself from his grasp. Luckily, he was caught up in trying to figure out if he really had managed to score with Bat Girl. I was almost to Ranger's office when a hand reached out and snagged me around the waist.

"Geez!" I exclaimed, pressing my hand to my heart, still clutching the rapidly cooling Cure. "What's with you? Do you really need to be in stealth mode inside Rangeman?" I demanded.

"Sorry, Bomber," Bobby said, grinning. "I just thought you might want a certain something before you bait the bear." He held up a flash drive, and I think I might have cried a little I was so happy.

I made a move to take it, but he raised his arm and held it above his head, out of my reach. "Bomber," he said, and for the first time since I'd known him, he looked uncomfortable. I looked at him expectantly, but he took his sweet time figuring out what he wanted to say. I glanced toward Ranger's closed office door and bit my lip in frustration. What if Ranger was sobering up while I stood here waiting for Bobby to hand over the evidence? I wanted to see hung over Ranger, dammit!

"Ranger was really drunk," he finally said.

Duh! "Yeah, I kind of figured that out," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Just go easy on him," he advised. He waved the memory stick. "This won't be easy for him."

I snatched the stick out of his hand and planted a kiss on his cheek. At the same time, I slipped the bottle of Aleve into his hand. Poor guy might not have drunk as much as the others last night, but he still looked as if he was a little worse for wear. "Oh, I'll be gentle," I assured him, and ducked around him, leaving him studying the bottle of Aleve. My goal was in sight! I knocked on the door, and tried unsuccessfully to school my face into something that didn't look like the cat that just swallowed the canary.

"Somebody better be dead," Ranger growled, but instead of dampening my enthusiasm, his curt threat only made me smile more. This was going to be _good_.

I opened the door and saw him seated at his desk, dressed in Rangeman black, and looking normal. Well, mostly normal. The average person might not have noticed, but I could see faint discolouration under his eyes, and a slight pinching at the temples. Ranger was definitely a little worse for wear, I thought gleefully.

"Stephanie," he said, and I thought I saw a flicker of... something... pass across his face.

"Hey, Ranger!" I said, breezing my way into the office. Ignoring the guest chair, I went straight to his side of the desk and planted myself on the corner of it, swinging my legs. "I brought something for you," I said, and handed him The Cure.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the obvious aroma of McDonald's. "Babe."

"It's good for what ails you," I cajoled, waving the food under his nose. When he didn't reach out to take it, I stuck a straw in the Coke and placed it in front of him, moving aside a half empty bottle of water. I nudged the horse-sized vitamin out of the way with the cardboard container of fries. (Hey! A small definitely wouldn't have cut it. Besides, Ranger's a big guy. I'm sure he needed the large. And if he wanted to share, well, that was okay too.)

"Babe," he repeated, but when I waved a fry in front of his mouth, he obediently opened it and ate it, grimacing slightly.

"That's awful," he said, and eyed the container with the big happy yellow M distrustfully.

"They grow on you," I assured him, and waved a second fry in front of him.

He took it and chewed quickly, as if he thought that by allowing it to spend less time in his mouth, he wouldn't be exposing himself to as much of the fat and grease. And he says _I_ live in denial...

I shifted slightly, drawing attention to the fact that I'd dressed in a just above the knee black cargo skirt. While he was distracted, I popped another fry in his mouth. By the time he'd eaten three more, his hand was on my thigh and he was helping himself to the rest of the container of fries. When he set it down to take a sip of the Coke, I couldn't help but smile.

"Better?" I asked.

"I'll deny it if you tell my men, but yes. I feel better." His hand inched higher on my thigh, and I peeked at his lap and determined that yes, he did, indeed, feel better.

"So how did you know that I needed The Cure?" he asked, his eyes on the skin that he'd revealed by pushing up the hem of my skirt.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I teased, my voice hitching when he started using his thumb to stroke the soft skin of my inner thigh.

"I have ways of making you talk," he teased back, his hand slipping back down to the back of my knee. He began tickling, causing me to squirm until I wriggled off the desk and landed in his lap. I swear, I have _no_ idea how that happened!

His arms came around me, holding me carefully in place as I wriggled in an attempt to find the absolute most comfortable spot. The fact that I may have ground myself onto a certain, very firm, piece of his anatomy was entirely coincidental. Hey, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

"Babe," he groaned, and I couldn't stop the primal satisfaction I felt, knowing what I was causing him to feel. One of his hands had made its way back to my thigh, and he seemed intent on making up the ground he had lost when he stopped to tickle me.

"Ranger," I gasped, fighting the urge to wrap my legs around him and start grinding in earnest.

Now, normally, by this point in our physical communication, I'd be pulling away, driven either by guilt or fear. But Morelli was out of the picture, and Ranger's drunken phone call had erased most of my fear. The man loved me. He might have had to be drunk to get the words out, but I was convinced that that didn't make them any less true. The niggling, always present fear that he meant more to me than I did to him was gone. Forgetting about the memory stick, I seized the moment and used one hand to tug his head down to mine. His lips met mine, and I gave in to the urge to move against him, and to run my hands up and down his back and through his unfairly silky hair.

When he pulled away, I groaned reluctantly.

"Babe," he whispered again, seemingly surprised by my enthusiastic and uninhibited response to him. He looked at me questioningly, as if wondering why I was allowing him such liberties.

I licked my lips, thinking it was now or never. Before I could speak, though he said, "You never did answer my question. How did you know I needed The Cure?"

"You could say a little birdie told me," I said, pressing the flash drive into his hand.

He looked at it in confusion, and then anger. Betrayal ranked really high on the list of things you never wanted to do to Ranger, and I had a feeling he was currently plotting someone's painful death.

"Relax," I said, putting my hand over his and closing it around the tiny electronic device that held both of our biggest secrets. "He had your permission." Kind of. Does drunk permission count? I said a silent prayer for Bobby.

"Do you not remember anything about last night?" I asked curiously. He was Batman! I didn't think that getting drunk could really cause him to be that unaware of his surroundings.

He shook his head, but I thought I caught a flash of something in his eye when he looked at me. He frowned. Well, okay, maybe his lips didn't actually move, but I could tell he was frowning. Or at least thinking about it. "Have you seen this?" he asked as he inserted it into the computer and realized that it was a video.

"No," I replied, "but I'm pretty sure I'm on it. Well, at least my voice is."

He raised one eyebrow, but didn't waste any more time. Turning up the volume, he pressed play. I waffled between tucking myself into his arms even tighter and giving him some space. Apparently he didn't remember anything about the previous night. Would he be embarrassed? Angry? Or, worst of all, would he be emotionless?

When Lester appeared on screen, Ranger definitely lost the "emotionless" expression. To be fair, though, my startled yelp might have had something to do with that. Hey! How was I supposed to know that Lester was making the call in his undies? He had thankfully spared me that tidbit of information when we were on the phone.

I will just state for the record that, next to black silk boxers, white boxer briefs are the bomb.

Ranger muttered something that sounded like "fucking Santos" while I picked my jaw up off the floor. Since it felt funny to be wrapped in Ranger's arms while I ogled a mostly naked man, I squirmed a little, but Ranger only tightened his arms around me. Well, okay then.

Lester was seated at a round kitchen table, straddling a chair. His spiked hair was tousled and he was grinning in a way only the really drunk can, creating quite the picture. Tank was across from him, and from what I could tell, completely starkers. Well, it made sense. By his own admission, the man didn't wear underwear. I tried not to stare, but damn! The man really was carved from granite. Ranger was between them, still completely clothed, sadly. But his expression was open and his eyes were slightly unfocused, telling me that he was definitely feeling the effects of whatever was in the bottle in the middle of the table. I couldn't see Bobby, but he was narrating as he recorded the scene.

"And, in a wise move, Ranger has chosen Truth over Dare." Bobby glanced at Tank, who was shifting uncomfortably on the wooden chair. "Tank? You doing okay?"

Tank grunted something unintelligible and lowered a hand to his lap. "Shtupid dare," he slurred, wincing at whatever he found between his legs. "Gonna hurf like a mo-fo when it grows back."

I clapped a hand to my mouth to keep from laughing. Ranger had been telling the truth! Tank had definitely mowed the grass! I could feel Ranger shaking his head.

"Stupid bastard never could turn down a dare," he said, but his tone was more amused than irritated. That changed when Tank stood up from the table, displaying himself in all his shaved glory.

"Holy shit!" I yelped, covering my eyes, but peeking out from between two fingers. Hey! I'm only human! And Tank is... well, after everything I've seen, I'm not quite sure if he's human, but he's definitely worth sneaking a look at his naked body.

"Dammit," Ranger cursed. "I'm going to kill him."

We watched as Tank stumbled to the black leather couch in the adjoining living room, carrying a shot glass filled to the rim. His backside was almost as impressive as his front. Not that I was looking...

"And he's going to pay for cleaning the couch," Ranger said grimly as Tank lowered his naked body to the leather, spreading his legs as wide as they would go.

The camera panned back to the table, where Lester was holding a cell phone. "Time ta man dup," he said.

Ranger reached for the phone, but Lester snatched his hand back, nearly tipping the already tilted chair. "Nu-uh," he scolded. "I'z gedz ta talk ta Boo-d-ful furse. Frost. Hell, I'ma callin er."

"And now the fun begins," Bobby, clearly the only sober person in the house, said. "Lester is calling Miss Stephanie Plum, so that Ranger can fulfill his Truth by telling her—" I felt Ranger's body go perfectly still, but didn't have time to dwell on it because Bobby was interrupted by my voice. Shit! How did a drunk Lester figure out how to turn on the speaker phone? Damn those Merry Men mad skills!

"Boo-full!"

Ranger shook his head at Lester's boisterous greeting, and I couldn't help grinning. Even drunk, Lester was a flirt, but he always made me feel good. Ranger and I listened to the conversation, and I think Ranger was amused, up until Lester sang the Batman theme song. Even then, he seemed to be leaning more toward minor irritation rather than full-fledged annoyance. Heck, even I found Lester singing the Batman theme song, complete with choreography, funny. Especially since he got up to do the dance moves. I did mention that he was in white boxer briefs, right? And that he was doing pelvic thrusts? Bobby and Tank joining in on the "Batman!" refrains was hilarious! How did I not hear that when I was on the phone? I must have been more tired than I thought. I grabbed the Coke that Ranger hadn't finished and enjoyed the show.

Ranger even seemed to do pretty well handling the part of the conversation where Lester told me I was hot. It was when Lester started talking more about Batman that Ranger started tensing up.

"Batman's lone-y!" Lester said in a loud whisper. "He's a-a-a-a-a-a-all alone an' he needs you."

I watched the screen as a very drunk Ranger perked up.

"Not me!" Lester continued. "_Batman's_ lonely. An broody. Well, Batman's always broody. But he's worsh when you're not around."

Ranger made a small grunting noise that made me fear for Lester's life.

"An I fink he's prolly horny, too." I clapped a hand to my mouth as Lester leaned over to inspect Ranger's lap. "Yup."

Drunk Ranger on the screen smiled proudly. Sober Ranger holding me in his lap upgraded from grunting to all-out growling. Probably Lester should book passage to Antarctica...

Ranger seemed to relax as he listened to me tease Lester about Robin, Alfred, Cat Woman, and Bat Girl. I, on the other hand, cringed. I had been relying on the fact that Lester wouldn't remember that part of the conversation. If he saw the video, I was going to be in a whole lot of trouble.

"This video will never leave this office," Ranger promised me, apparently reading my mind.

I nodded in gratitude, and turned back in time to see Lester pacing and muttering. I was momentarily distracted (did I mention he was wearing white boxer briefs?) but I definitely heard, "Can't believe you're dissing Batman. That's sacri... sackoo... sarco... stupid. Din't think Wunner Woman would _ever_ diss Batman."

I winced. "I didn't actually know he was talking about you," I told Ranger. "I didn't know that he knew that I called you Batman! And how the heck did he know about Wonder Woman?"

Ranger had the grace to look abashed. Huh. Maybe he's a bit more of a Chatty Cathy than I thought?

"Batman's lonely," Lester was saying. "And me an th'other Merry Men are tired of listen'n to 'im bitch!"

"He's drunk!" I reminded Ranger when I felt him start to get up. "People say crazy things when they're drunk! You wouldn't even know about this if I hadn't brought you the video, so you can't kill him," I told him.

Ranger gave me a look that told me plainly that yes, he could kill him. Happily!

"Well, at least wait until the end of the video," I begged. No way was Ranger getting out of watching this! I started to rethink this when I heard Lester say, "You gotta come. Batman _needs_ you. He won't shtop talking bout how hot you are, and how much he loves you, and all the ways he'll—hey!" he exclaimed. "He loooves you!"

My face flamed as Lester began his Miss Congeniality impersonation. I wanted to hide my face in Ranger's chest so that I wouldn't have to watch, but it was like a train wreck; I couldn't look away. Probably I should have. Lester was plumping imaginary curls and prancing around them room, pretending to be Sandra Bullock.

"He loooves you! He wants to kiiiiiis you!" I clapped a hand over my mouth as Drunk Ranger, who had looked perfectly calm two seconds ago, suddenly lurched out of his chair and tackled Lester, bringing him to his knees. A minor scuffle followed, with Bobby hovering close enough to catch each of the slow motion hits. No, he hadn't tampered the video to add special effects. Ranger and Lester were both so drunk that they were moving at about half speed. This was fine by me, as it gave me more time to ogle Lester in the white boxer briefs, and Ranger.' Cause let's face it. Ranger doesn't even have to be stripped down to his underwear to be hot. The scuffle didn't last long, and came to a halt when Ranger grabbed the waistband of Lester's underpants and jerked.

I felt Ranger chuckle, and knew that Lester's life had been spared, at least for a little while. I guess a wedgie covers a multitude of infractions.

In a matter of seconds, Drunk Ranger had appropriated the phone, and Lester had joined Tank on the couch and was nursing his wounds. My breath caught as I watched Ranger and I talk. His face was completely open and, despite having just handed Santos his ass, he looked completely happy as he talked to me. I remembered what he'd said about letting the guys think they were tricking him into calling me, and decided that he'd been telling the truth. At no time had Ranger tried to get out of talking to me. In fact, he'd been ticked that Lester had insisted on placing the call. Something melted inside me, and I relaxed in Ranger's embrace.

I couldn't help snickering, though, when Tank and Lester began tapping their shot glasses on the coffee table, shouting, "Tell her! Tell her! Tell her!"

Drunk Ranger growled in their direction and made some sort of hand gesture that only made them laugh harder.

The next thing I heard was my own voice saying, " Where were we? Oh, right. You were about to tell me something."

Before Ranger could reply, Tank and Lester starting shouting, "Go, Ranger! Go, Ranger!" Even Bobby got in on the chanting.

"We're playin' Troof or Dare," Drunk Ranger whispered.

I couldn't help giggling at how _cute_ Drunk Ranger sounded. Sober Ranger didn't seem to find him nearly as amusing as I did.

"I've lost all credibility, haven't I?" he asked, burying his face in my hair.

"Maybe," I whispered. "But if you play your cards right, you might gain something even better."

Ranger shot me a puzzled look, and I realized that he really thought I was just showing him the video to embarrass him. And, while that was a huge side benefit, it certainly wasn't my primary objective. I smiled at him, confusing him further, and then brushed his cheek with a kiss. "Keep watching," I told him. "It gets better."

"It's not like it could get worse," he grimaced.

I'm pretty sure he regretted that statement as he listened to himself explain Truth or Dare.

"I don't get it," late night confused Stephanie was saying. "Did he have to do it in his tighty whities, or something?"

I convulsed in laughter as Drunk Ranger paced, finally stopping beside the couch and staring down at Tank. "Worser," he said, amused. "Couldn't wear nothin to mow this grass. Ged whad I mean?"

Tank glared at Ranger and muttered something under his breath. Bobby panned in on Tank's "mowed" area, and this time, Ranger helped me hide my face in his chest. As impressive as the close up of Tank's privates was, even I had limits. By the time I was ready to brave the video again, I could hear Drunk Ranger saying, "Lesser says I'm sposed ta tell ya how much I luuuuuuv ya!"

Ranger sucked in a breath and I stopped breathing. This was it. The moment of truth.

I winced when I heard myself say, "You love me?" Even I could hear the longing in my voice.

"Babe," Sober Ranger whispered, only to be drowned out by Drunk Ranger saying, "Du-uh! An you need ta come visit the Bat Cave. Not tonight cuz Tank's passed out on the floor, an no way I'm touchin' him."

The camera panned back to the living room area, and I saw that in the few seconds since Ranger had talked to him, Tank had managed to pass out and slide off the couch. Lester was still on the couch, grinning like a fool.

"You love me?" Confused Stephanie repeated, and this time it was hope I could hear in her voice. Ranger pressed a kiss to my hair, but didn't say anything.

"I said dat!" Drunk Ranger protested. "Letser was right. _You're_ the drunk one!"

"You love me!" Confused Stephanie said. "Wait. You're not just saying this because you're drunk, are you?"

I held my breath and waited to see how Sober Ranger would react to Drunk Ranger's response.

"Sure I am!" Drunk Ranger answered cheerfully, waving his hands in the air for effect. "S' only way I could," he whispered, as if confiding a secret. "The guys think I don't know they got me drunk on purple so I'd tell ya. I let them," he finished proudly. "Don't tell 'em. Issa secet."

Sober Ranger winced.

"You let them," Confused Stephanie said.

"Yup! Cause whad if you din'nt love me back? Hurts less drunk."

I stared at the image of Drunk Ranger on the screen. He was being completely, utterly honest with me for the first time since I'd met him, and he was beautiful. In that moment, all I wanted to do was show Sober Ranger how much the moment with Drunk Ranger had meant to me. I twisted in his lap, and faster than you could say "tighty whitie", I was kissing him. All the longing, all the hope I'd been storing up for years came out in that kiss, and by the time I pulled away tears were running down my face.

"I love you, too," Confused Stephanie was saying on the video. Faster that I would have believed humanly possible, Ranger grabbed the remote and paused it. He backed up the video, and when he played it back, we both clearly heard me. Sober Ranger stared at me in disbelief. Without taking his eyes off me, he managed to back it up and play it again. Twice.

"You love me," Sober Ranger said.

I nodded, unable to form words.

He replayed my words.

"You love me."

I nodded again.

"And all I had to do to get you to admit it was harass you with a late night drunk phone call?" he questioned.

I nodded.

"Say it," he whispered, and though he hid it well, I could see the vulnerability in his eyes.

I bit my lip. It had been easy saying it to Drunk Ranger. Why was it so much harder now? "Not fair," I whispered back, closing my eyes. "I've already said it sober. You've only done it drunk!" I paused. "Is that the only way you can do it?" I questioned, but didn't wait for him to reply. "Because I can probably live with that. I mean, I do need to hear the words sometimes, but I can just ply you with liquor, you'll say it, and then we'll have really great drunk sex."

I stopped babbling when Ranger put his finger to my lips.

"I love you," he said, and my heart stopped. "And I'll say it to you, drunk or sober, for the rest of our lives if you want me to."

"I want," I told him, and he kissed me, filling up all the holes that I didn't even know my heart had.

"Does this mean we can have 'really great drunk sex' now?" he teased.

"No," I said. "But we can have 'really great I love you' sex."

He smiled and slid his hand up my thigh, underneath my skirt, just as he had before. Somehow, though, it felt different now. It wasn't just a physical touch anymore, I realized. Everything we did was a promise of how we felt.

"I don't know," Ranger said, his voice just teasing enough to assure me that he wasn't rejecting me. "I don't think we can have 'really great I love you sex' without both of us saying it a lot."

"Not a problem," I said, putting my lips close to his ear. "I love you," I whispered, and placed a kiss just behind his ear. "I love you," I repeated, and trailed more kisses down his neck. "I love you," I promised, just before sucking the skin of his neck between my teeth. And after that, between his hand up my skirt and my mouth on, well, just about everything, there was no more talking for a little while.

I jumped when the video took itself off pause and began playing again. "Are you going to remember any of this in the morning?" Confused Stephanie asked.

"Doesn't matter," Drunk Ranger slurred. "Bobby's recording everything on his phone... he sez for postherapy."

I smiled as Ranger's arms tightened around me. "Bobby's awesome," I told him.

"Gotta go, Babe," Drunk Ranger said. ""Lister's gonna write his name inna snow."

Confused Stephanie replied, "It's July, Ranger. There's no snow."

The camera panned to Lester, who was opening the patio door and pulling down his underwear.

"Shit," both Drunk and Sober Ranger said, watching Lester pee his name on the grass.

"Lester's paying to have the lawn re-sodded," Ranger decided.

I nodded, watching as Lester finished his business and tucked himself back into his underwear. Bobby was only filming from the backside, but still! Drunk Ranger entered the frame, obviously ticked off at Lester. "Ged inshide," Drunk Ranger said, pushing him toward the patio doors. "An use da baffroom nex time, dickhead!"

I chuckled, because somehow, Drunk Ranger had been able to enunciate "dickhead" perfectly.

"Aw, shuddup," Lester complained, weaving on his feet as he aimed for the couch. "Yoo shuf be fanking me. Tankin me. Now Boo-ful knows ya loooooove her!"

Drunk Ranger pushed Lester off the couch and watched as he landed beside Tank.

"Hey!" Lester protested, but didn't even try to get up.

Drunk Ranger took the spot on the couch he'd cleared for himself and nudged Tank with his foot. "Tank's out," he said. He tossed a blanket from the couch in an attempt to cover up his junk, but Tank immediately whimpered and shoved it off. Obviously, his freshly shaved man-jewel area was still sensitive.

Sober Ranger muttered something that sounded like "pussy", but his words didn't hold any heat.

Bobby sat down beside Drunk Ranger, placing the phone on the coffee table. "Well, that went better than expected," he said. "I didn't even have to patch anyone up."

"Night's shtill young," Drunk Ranger said, but he was already slouching into a more comfortable position.

Bobby shook his head and tossed Ranger the blanket that Tank had rejected. He stretched out on the couch while Bobby's voice grew fainter. The last words I heard before he flipped the phone closed were, "Thanks, guys." And I couldn't be sure, but his voice didn't sound nearly as drunk as it had a few seconds ago.

I looked at Sober Ranger questioningly, but he only smiled and stood up as the screen went blank. "You promised me really great I love you sex," he reminded me, and I decided that I didn't care if Ranger had staged the entire phone call the previous night. He gave me a panty-ruining, stupor-inducing kiss, and I didn't care about anything other than getting him horizontal. Or vertical. Or diagonal, come to think of it...

"Not here, Babe," he said, breaking the kiss and tugging me toward the door. "What I want to do requires a bit more privacy than the office can afford."

A rush of heat went straight through me at the promise in his voice, and I think my knees may have buckled a little. Keeping one arm around me, Ranger grabbed the memory stick from the computer and tucked it into one of his many cargo pockets. Before I could blink, we were exiting his office and heading straight for the elevator.

The elevator door opened almost immediately, revealing one occupant. My eyes grew wide as I watched Tank struggle to exit the elevator normally. His gait was decidedly more bow-legged than normal, and his expression could only be described as tortured.

"Hey, Big Guy," I said, greeting him with a knowing smile. So sue me! It isn't often I have ammunition against the Merry Men!

"Not so loud," he whispered, gamely putting one foot after the other and passing us on the way to his office. Taking pity on him, I handed him the rest of the bottles of pain relievers. It definitely looked like he could use them. Both Ranger and I turned to watch his progress, hiding smiles as his backside muscles bunched with every step, trying to keep his pants away from his crotch.

"You think he's learned his lesson about Truth or Dare?" I asked.

The elevator door closed, sealing us in a cocoon of privacy. "Always go with Troof," Ranger dead-panned, pushing me back against the wall and lowering his mouth to mine. "Always go with Troof."


End file.
